


Holding On To You And Me

by unpeudeciel



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 04:37:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4006093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unpeudeciel/pseuds/unpeudeciel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'"At least stay in touch, Jess. Don't just disappear off the face of the earth again. I can be here for you." Her proposition is crazy, but it's tempting, and maybe, just maybe, it's better than nothing.'</p><p>Literati, season 4/5 AU, starting with 'Nag Hammadi Is Where They Found The Gnostic Gospels'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding On To You And Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I published on fanfiction.net back in 2011. Seeing as I'm still happy with it, here it is again for anyone who's still reading Literati fanfiction, slightly edited and a little bit more mature.

He's listening to her ramble like she's never rambled before and he feels dizzy; dizzy from her presence next to him after all these months, dizzy from her words, from guilt and something else that is rising in his chest. Her speech comes to him in a blur, except for the last part, demanding and angry that he gets very clearly.

"... _hundreds_  of different scenarios with a  _hundred_  different great last parting lines, and I have to tell you that I am actually very curious to see which way this is going to go!"

"Can we sit down?" He actually needs to. This is all too much, too intense, too Rory. A furious, very upset Rory.

"No. You wanted to talk, so talk. What do you have to say to me?"

He has so much that nothing actually comes out. He sighs, bites his lip in a way that he unconsciously picked up from her, and that feeling that kept rising in his chest leads to an explosion that comes out in three little words.

"I love you."

The silence, mixed with the frightened look in her eyes is like a punch in the gut, and now there's nothing but panic and he needs to run because he didn't think this through and he's not ready to face the consequences of the actions of his heart (because he swears, his brain was hardly involved in what just happened).

It's not like she tries to stop him, either; apparently the greatness of this particular parting line surpassed Rory Gilmore's imagination.

He's not sure if it's good or bad.

He's already by the door of his car when the thumping of his heart is interrupted by another sound, one that makes him both exhilarated and scared out of his wits.

"Jess. Jess!"

He hesitates before turning around to face her, and it takes a few more seconds before they timidly make eye contact.

"I..." she takes a few cautious steps towards him before crying out, "What is your problem?" Then her voice tones down, and she says in a frightened yet forceful voice, "You  _cannot_  say something like this and just drive off like it doesn't change anything."

He looks away again, partly because he can't stand seeing her vulnerable like that, partly because he's pretty sure he doesn't want her to see his face either; then he bites the inside of his cheek until it hurts.

"Well, what  _does_  it change, Rory?"

"I... uh... I... don't know."

He actually feels nauseous. "Exactly. You're still on the road to greatness, I'm still... less stable than ever, we can't do this."

She draws in a sharp breath. "I hate this!"

"What?"

"This, all of it! The being in such different places, the running, the... missing you. I hate not having you in my life," she finishes quietly, visibly deflating.

This is not what he expected at all. He expected her to yell, to blame him, to say that she never wants to see him again. Now he's even more confused than he was a moment before, because the lack of all those things must mean  _something_ , though he's too petrified to put a label on it. He needs to read her, so he steps closer to her, watching her eyes widen as he does so.

"Rory-"

The second wind comes, quite typically for her.

"I... You know what the worst part of it is, Jess? I should  _hate_  you. A part of me does. But... not really. I said I wouldn't pine but it turns out to be impossible and I can't do anything about that, even though I want to! And now you show up here and you say...  _that_... and it really doesn't help!" she huffs, furiously playing with her sleeves.

He studies her intently, eyes not wavering from her face.

"So what are you saying?"

"I  _want_  it to change something. At least stay in touch, Jess. Don't just disappear off the face of the earth again. I can be here for you, whatever it is you're clearly going through," she vaguely waves her arm in his direction.

"Rory-"

"I can! You can call me if you want to talk, you can come for dinner, whatever. I couldn't deal with the unpredictability before, but I think I'm okay with it now."

"That wouldn't be fair to you, Rory."

"I don't care!" she cries, too exhausted to notice that she's now entering the realm of the pathetic and the desperate. She takes one more step towards him, her eyes not leaving his, then she extends her arm and gingerly runs her fingers down his cheek. "Please. I don't expect anything. For now, at least. Just... I'm here if you ever need me."

Her proposition is crazy, but it's tempting, and maybe, just maybe, it's better than nothing. Maybe it can eventually lead to  _something_.

"Okay. So you're... here?"

"Well, Yale, mostly," she answers and puts more distance between them, taken aback by his sober question. "Right, my address. Do you have a pen?"

He wearily fishes for a pencil in the pocket of his jacket, then hands her the envelope he's carrying, and she takes it to scribble down her address. He glances down at it to discover that her writing is unusually shaky but tactfully pretends he doesn't notice. When she's done he puts the envelope into his pocket, and they're back to staring at each other, at a loss for words.

"Right. I should probably..." Jess mutters, awkwardly waving his arm in the direction of his car.

"Yeah."

"So. Maybe I'll see you."

For the first time in the longest time she gives him a little smile, and taking a step back towards his car seems like the hardest thing in the world to do. He's not quite able to return the smile, not yet, but he shoots her a grateful look.

"Jess, wait!" she stops him yet again though, and before he can turn around she's pressing her lips to his in a chaste yet lingering kiss; one with sweetness, desperation and longing all rolled into one in a way that makes him tremble – something he internally curses himself for. "What you said before?" Rory says just above a whisper with her forehead against his. "It works both ways."

* * *

The first time he takes her up on her offer, it's out of sheer desperation. He can't stand to spend a second more in the dump that the room he shares is; all he's had to eat since noon the day before was an apple, and the near-mugging incident of the previous night doesn't exactly make wandering around the city very tempting.

Yale doesn't exactly throw him a big welcoming party either; as soon as he gets out of his car he stumbles upon a group of drunk rich kids who laugh loudly at that  _rusty piece of crap_  that is his car. They've clearly had some drinks and are heading to get more, and it reminds him that it's a Friday night. The realization provides a mental kick – not only did he make the trip even though rationally he shouldn't have, but now Rory's probably not even here. She must be having a fancy dinner at her grandparents' and then she's most likely going home for the weekend to mock movies and binge on junk food with her mother.

He leans against his car, thinking that he ought to get out of her life, once and for all, because he only brings chaos to it, in return receiving hope that never gets him anywhere.

If only knew how to stay away, how to get rid of this force that's pulling him to her.

There are two cigarettes left in the pack, and though he's been extremely careful to save them for when he really,  _really_  needs them, he lights one now. Then he takes out a red notebook from the glove compartment, puts it on the roof of the car and scribbles a sentence. Then another one. It's cathartic, the way the pen threatens to break under the pressure he puts on it, and the anger seeps out together with the ink.

After a while he looks up, as if subconsciously sensing her approach. He sees her walking towards him, arms protectively wrapped around herself, closer and closer, until her breath visible in the cold air mixes with the cigarette smoke.

He snaps the notebook shut and tosses it onto the passenger seat.

"You came," she says quietly. He's looking away, but gives her a nod. "I'm glad you came," she continues, trying to force a smile. "Dinner at Grandma's consisted of calamari and salad, so I ordered a ton of pizza. It should be in my dorm by now."

He's embarrassed but he follows her. She puts some movie on just to kill the silence, and they eat, pretending to watch. At some point she shyly tells him they could talk if he wants to, but he only looks down onto his lap, because he's not sure he wants her to know. She doesn't push.

He doesn't know that eventually, he dozes off on the couch and she brings a blanket from her room. The moment when she covers him with it is one of the most awkward in her life but she manages, and gets a sleepy, appreciative mumble in return. Then she sits down on the floor with her back against the couch, fixes her eyes on the screen again, and lets silent tears stream down her face.

In the morning he's gone, and Rory pretends she doesn't hear Janet when she asks whose the cute guy on the couch was.

* * *

He has a big blow up with one of his roommates about something or other and moves to another apartment. It's even worse than the last one, except, surprisingly, it has a functioning telephone.

The two other guys who are crashing there supposedly work night shifts, so after a staring-at-the-cracks-on-the-ceiling session one evening, his picks up the phone and –cringing at his own dependency– dials Rory's number.

There is a ton of awkwardness before they say anything of any significance, but he finds out that her great-grandmother died and she generally had an awful week. It doesn't make him feel any better but it does -for a while- take his mind off his own crappy life.

When she asks him to just stay on the phone with her, he does, even though he's a bit freaked out. It gets peaceful after a while, and he can hear her measured breathing. He's woken up when it's already getting light outside, by a guy named Todd, who curses him for not putting the phone away.

* * *

Three weeks pass, and it strikes her how monotonous her life is. Surely college is supposed to be more exciting than that. She always had those visions of really  _living_  when she gets out Stars Hollow, but now Rory Gilmore's life consists of studying, eating, sleeping, reading and a few people who keep her entertained. But she misses  _him_ , with his spontaneity and impulsiveness that she'd envied from day one. She has learned to miss him by now, but since his sudden re-appearance in her life with the even more sudden confession of love, she tends to think about him more often, finally without the bitterness and hurt. She wonders what he's up to, in that mysterious life of his.

Paris, focused as always, doesn't really notice anything new with Rory, but she protests her friend's repetitive lifestyle and makes it a matter of pride to drag Rory to some launch for a book by one of Professor Asher Flemming's closest friends.

The evening is intellectually stimulating at first, but as it turns out, intoxication is a state in which even the Yale elite talks no sense at all.

The first glass of wine is practically forced into Rory's hand by Paris, and though she's reluctant, she begins to sip as she sees that no one pays much attention to her and she won't be getting arrested for underage drinking. After the second glass, drunk alone, she excuses herself and heads back to the dormitory in a rather foul mood.

Her bed is nice and soft, the stack of books on her desk looks promising, but she still feels that it's not really adrenaline-generating stuff she's after.

Then the phone rings, and for better or for worse, the quiet evening goes to hell.

She frowns, not recognising the number, then picks up. "Hello?"

There's a moment of silence before a familiar voice answers. "Hey."

"Jess." Another moment of silence passes and she gets impatient. "Well? How are you?"

"Good. Actually, not really, but I... I don't really feel like talking."

"Oh," she says and frowns. "But... you're calling."

He sighs on the other end of the line, and it's quiet, but she hears it anyway. "I... yeah. I don't know why."

"Oh," she repeats. The next silence is tense, because she hates to hear him sound so vulnerable and not know the reason. "Talk to me. Please," she says softly.

"Rory..."

"Jess, I want to be here for you, but for that I kind of need to know what's going on with you. Anything. I don't even know where you live these days."

"I'm back in New York City," comes a tired reply.

"With your mom?"

"No. Rory, I'm sorry, can we please not do this right now?"

"Fine," she says and bites her lip. "I'm just worried about you."

"I'm okay."

She cannot help but snort at this. "Yes, sure. If you were okay, Jess, you wouldn't just turn up at Yale, looking like you haven't slept or eaten in a really long time, by the way, or call me for no reason whatsoever."

"I'm sorry, I'll stop now," he says harshly.

"I don't want you to stop! I just want to know what's going on with you!"

"Why, so you can pity me?"

Her mouth drops open. "Why are you making this so hard?" she asks with disbelief.

"Am I? I've asked you a simple question."

It's as if he assumes that she wouldn't understand; his tone is condescending and it hurts, so she starts saying hurtful things, too. "Well, if your life is pity-worthy, whose fault is it, Jess? No one prevented you from going to school! Luke encouraged you, I encouraged you, but you still knew better than that, and look where that landed you!"

"Jesus, Rory, I hated it there! Did you really expect I would get my diploma and stay in Stars Hollow forever and we would all be jolly?"

"We could have  _tried_!"

"That's bullshit. I couldn't stay there and you know it. I wasn't ready. And you weren't ready either."

"I wasn't ready? I was ready! You just didn't stick around long enough to see that!"

"I stuck around for long enough to see that what you and I had wasn't strong enough to endure you caring more about pleasing your mother, Dean and the whole fucking town, Rory."

"Excuse me? I wasn't the one in our relationship who refused to communicate! At least I made an effort!"

"Could you  _be_  any more self-righteous right now?"

" _Self-righteous_? Weren't you supposed to love me?"

And then he hangs up.

* * *

Over the next week, the proportion of anger and guilt she initially felt becomes inversely proportional. She knows that she said some awful things, and she almost admits that she was indeed being self-righteous, but it still doesn't make him call, or her magically posses his phone number.

So one day, after her morning class, she gets on a bus heading to New York. 

The city is still intimidating when she's on her own, though not as much as the first time; at least she vaguely remembers the way to Washington Square Park.

This time, there's no sweet anticipation though. She's determined, desperate even, to make things right with him, but there's nothing sweet about it; there's anxiety and guilt and focus on the mission.

Her face falls when she doesn't find him on his bench, nor on any other, and she berates herself for thinking it would be that easy. It's just another sign that things have changed, he's not the same boy who used to hang around on a park bench all day long, and that's good, she guesses, just not in her current predicament. 

She sits down for a moment, fidgeting, trying to work out what to do next, and eventually she reaches for her cell phone and with shaky fingers dials Luke's number.

Luke is clearly surprised, but doesn't ask any questions and gives her an address, adding cautiously that he's not sure if it's up to date. He tells her to be careful. She waves it off as casually as possible, which in this case means nervous laughter.

She finds the place quickly, and when she knocks, with anxiety tying her stomach in knots, the door is opened by a guy with a rather spectacular green mohawk on his head.

"H-hi," she stutters a little. "I'm... looking for Jess."

"Crazy hair, leather jacket, broody as fuck?" the guy asks. She notes that it's kind of funny coming from him.

"That's him."

"He moved out a few weeks ago."

"Oh." Her face falls and she can't control it. "Well... Thanks." She's stopped half-way through a turn on her heel.

"Wait. I have his new address if you want it. Poor bastard moved to Brooklyn."

On the subway, she cannot help but reminisce about the last time she was there, with him; and now that she knows him better, she finds it rather amazing that despite his vulnerability he can still make New York City feel a lot less scary for her. For now though, she has to manage on her own, even if she gets lost a lot.

When she knocks on a door in a shady apartment building, she is greeted by an equally shady character with peculiarly absent eyes. They wake up only to leer at her when she says she's looking for Jess Mariano, and when she describes him the guy shakes his head as a sign of his unawareness of such person's whereabouts.

She manages to sneak a peek inside the apartment though and doesn't miss a pile of books next to one of the mattresses. She asks the guy about their owner, and he admits that he doesn't think he's ever actually seen him, then he continues to stare at her.

It scares her, together with a strange odor and the plaster coming off the walls. She leaves as quickly as possible, her eyes stinging.

She heads back to Manhattan, and her heart-rate stupidly increases whenever she spots a head of dark curls or a leather jacket; at one point, walking down 6th Avenue, she starts speed-walking to get a closer look at a guy, but when she does, he notes that his walk is completely different.

She drinks two cups of coffee in a chain coffee shop before heading back to Port Authority.

On the bus, she rests her head against the window and closes her eyes, but doesn't sleep. She tries to blame the coffee for feeling sick.

* * *

He appears again three days later. She's just on her way out for an afternoon class, so they meet in the doorway and share a very cliché moment of very intense staring. Her eyes are searching his, and when she makes sure there is no apparent anger in them, she opens her mouth to say something but he beats her to it.

"Rory, did you go to New York?"

She turns her eyes away from him, because in a way this is embarrassing, but she nods solemnly.

He shakes his head, his hand somehow lands on her waist, and he slowly draws her to him, enveloping her in a hug that she instantly reciprocates.

It's warm and familiar and her eyes close, but she makes an honest effort to ignore the tingling all over her body. "Can you forget what you saw there?" he asks.

"You deserve better, Jess."

"I deserve what I got, you said so yourself."

"No, you know I didn't mean it like that!" she exclaims. "I'm so sorry, Jess."

"Me too," he murmurs.

"I really  _was_  being self-righteous. And I didn't even mean half of what I said. Like..." She wants to be more vocal, remember the speech she had prepared when she went to find him in New York, but his hand on the small on her back and his breath on her neck aren't exactly helping. "... the stuff about school," she finishes lamely.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," she answers, trying to hide her disappointment as he pulls away.

"That's too bad," he says and smirks, seeing her questioning frown. "'Cause I've kind of signed up to take the GEDs."

A smile spreads across her face and reaches her eyes. "Jess!" she exclaims. "That's good!"

He only shrugs, then looks down and nods to her book bag hanging off her shoulder. "You're heading out?"

"Class. I can skip it."

"You're not skipping class," he chuckles. "Go, I'll meet you afterwards."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. It ends at 4 o'clock. Can you meet me here?"

He just nods.

She doesn't pay attention in class. She's excited, because he seems pretty good today, he's there, he's not angry with her, and he's getting his GEDs. Maybe they are getting there, maybe they can work something out, something more than her being there for him in emergencies.

Hopeful, she meets him back by her dormitory, and falling into easy step and inconsequential conversation they wander around the campus for a while, walking close but not touching. Then she takes him to her favorite library on campus, which turns out to be the right decision because for a while he seems almost happy. There's a small smile on his face as he reaches for some book, and she puts the moment into a mental drawer, hoping she will be able to reach for it whenever she feels helpless.

With a mischievous grin, she takes a large volume off a shelf and goes to put it on a table in front of him.

"The Big Book of Careers?" he cocks an eyebrow.

"Just humor me," she tells him, sitting down next to him and opening the book on the first page. "So, Mr Mariano," she starts officially. "How would you feel about becoming an able seaman?"

"Great. Already have one girl in a port."

She blushes and swats his arm; and for a few hours when they read and laugh, it feels like the good old times, easy and playful, so much so that – not able to control herself any longer – in between giggles, she presses her mouth against his.

It's electric, and his lips respond for a fraction of a second, but as he brings his hand to her face, he pulls away. His forehead rests on hers and she feels him drawing a shaky breath. "Not yet, Rory," he whispers.

She's the one to pull away completely, biting her lip and looking away, disappointed and slightly humiliated.

"Rory..."

She only shrugs.

"Hey, don't  _be_  like that. What, you think I'm doing this to hurt you?"

"I don't... No, I don't think that," she answers dejectedly. "I just thought... I thought we might be ready. Apparently not."

He looks down into his lap. "Sorry about that."

Rory's not sure what to say to this, because  _it's not your fault_  wouldn't be entirely accurate, so she remains silent while her eyes slowly return to him.

On his part, Jess wishes he could tell her that it's not that he doesn't want to kiss her; in fact, he remembers afternoons of making out at Luke's when he thought that he could get used to this – kissing her - for the rest of his life. But that life went to hell a while ago and now he's looking for a way to built a new one, so he's a bit worried that if they started, he wouldn't be able to stop, and he does have to be at work tomorrow if he wants to keep his job. There is so much in his head, so many thoughts swirling around, but this is clearly one of those moments when the verbal thing goes and he can't get anything out.

His eyes send hers a silent apology, and in return, he sees understanding in hers. It's a first, this feeling that she gets it, and if she asked him now " _don't I look trustworthy?"_  the answer would probably be  _"fuck, yes!"_  . The instinctive desire to kiss her and devour her comes back, but he knows he can't succumb to it, not yet,  so he rises to his feet and bites his lip in desperate search for something to say or do.

"Go," says Rory, helping him out, but it's not bitter or cold, and suddenly he knows just the right gesture.

He gets out a book out of his back pocket and holds it out to her; she takes it and curiously studies for a moment. The title isn't important here, nor is the author; but she sees by the margin notes that he hasn't even read half of it yet.

She holds the book to her chest and gives him a small smile as he walks away, backwards, leaving behind an unspoken promise.

_Someday._

* * *

Finals are in full swing and she barely has time to have her coffee, let alone call her mother. She has no idea about what's going on in Stars Hollow, except, of course, that the Dragonfly is scheduled to open very soon.

She's elated for her mother, but she doesn't let the excitement get to her, because that would get in the way of her studies.

Her resolve weakens when she finds him on her doorstep though, looking more tired than she is, and so gloomy her eyes instantly fill with tears.

"What's wrong, Jess?"

"Ah. Everything, give or take."

She wonders whether this is a better answer than the 'nothing' he used to give her before, but she can't answer it so she just gently pulls him inside by the sleeve of his leather jacket  _(it's May, is he_ cold _?)_  and they spend a small eternity on the couch, his head on her lap and her hand playing with his hair.

"Remember when I told you about Lily?" he mumbles eventually, so quietly she can barely hear it. "They just found out she's got a brain tumour. She's starting chemo." Pause. "Fuck," he adds, burying his face in her thigh, and though she knows that under any other circumstances she'd find it uncomfortable and arousing, when she thinks she feels a drop of water where his eyes and her leg connect, she wants nothing but to take his pain away.

She doesn't really know of a way to do that though, so she just continues to stroke his hair. "You care about her, don't you?"

He hesitates before muttering, "I suppose. She's a pretty cool kid."

She's touched by this confession, somehow, and she would smile if it wasn't for the tragedy of the whole scene.

Then another piece of information comes, although, objectively, nowhere near as painful. He must have an inkling of it, because his voice doesn't sound choked anymore.

"And then there's the little issue of Liz... my... mom, getting married again. I've just been to Stars Hollow to see Luke, actually."

She'd love to say something to that but curiously, she has no words. She knows this brings up some childhood trauma in his mind, but she doesn't dare to inquire, not after their last fight.

When he finally snaps out of it, he sits up, pulls her closer and plants a kiss on her temple. She gives him a small smile in return.

He asks her how she's been and she gives him some generic reply. She wants to say she's been lonely, but he looks sad enough without knowing that.

He borrows a few books, because he's trying not to leave too much of his hard-earned cash in bookstores these days, and he has permission to scribble in her volumes, unlike the ones from the library (he's fed up with the librarian glaring at him from behind her glasses and calling him an incorrigible hoodlum, it brings back memories that he'd rather let go of).

She walks him back to his car and smiles at the sight of the old piece of junk. Leaning against it, she shoots Jess an uncertain look. "So, are you going to go? To California?"

For a moment, he seems totally caught off guard, then his features become sharper. "I don't know."

"How about the wedding?" He shrugs, his eyes fixed on the ground. She continues, almost embarrassed, "I'll come with you if you want."

His eyes dart back to her face then and he bites his lip, looking at her intently. "You'd do that?"

"Of course," she replies, trying to sound more assured than she really is. "When is it? And where?"

"Saturday. Stars Hollow."

"Oh. Wow, that's soon."

"Tell me about it."

"Well, it would be a bit of a shame if the good people of Stars Hollow ate you alive, so I'm definitely coming with you. Plus, you know, in Stars Hollow people really do know how to party," she tries to joke. Then she tells him that she should be moving out during the weekend, so after the wedding he can give her a lift back to Yale. He agrees. They make brief plans.

She asks him to keep her posted about Lily.

Then he leaves.

On his way back to New York City, he stops at a gas station to fill up his car.

He skips dinner for the next three days, but he sardonically notes that it's the price he has to pay for the food for his soul, however unhealthy it is.

* * *

Before her final on Saturday, she goes to Marty to say goodbye and surprises him with a request to borrow a white dress shirt.

When Jess arrives a few hours later, she presents him with the garment, which she correctly suspected he wouldn't have, and a tin of hair gel. He protests at first, but they have a laugh over it, and it feels so good that he relents. He gives her a look that – to her surprise – is almost bashful; then he takes off his leather jacket and the awful mustard-coloured shirt and puts on the one she gave him.

She doesn't take her eyes off him for a moment; instead, she watches his muscles flex and his tank top rise for a split second. He's skinnier now, but it still brings to mind all those sensations, all the desire she experienced when he used to pull her oh-so-close and kiss her in a way that made her forget the world. A wave of nostalgia washes over her, and then makes place for plain longing – for those times and for him; for that look in his eyes that was so close to happiness. Jess is standing right in front of her, but she still misses that boy so much that she has to mumble something and escape to the bathroom.

She changes into a dress, and when she catches her own reflection in the mirror, the face is so pained that she feels sorry for herself.

This is getting too hard, she thinks, something has to change soon.

* * *

Rory is mildly surprised to see Lorelai there, with Luke.

Lorelai, on the other hand, is downright shocked to see Rory there, with Jess.

She tells her mother that this is not the right time to explain it, Lorelai gets upset and proceeds to give her daughter the cold shoulder. She has the right, Rory guesses, but at the same time, Jess's visits and phone calls are not something she wants to share. Lorelai would interfere to protect her from getting hurt, but in this case it's particularly unwanted, because it was Rory's own, informed decision, getting hurt like this. She chose, perhaps masochistically, to have him in her life on a completely random bases, rather than lose him altogether.

The ceremony starts, and she watches Jess, adorably uncomfortable, leading his mother towards the makeshift altar. She sends him a smile, as brilliant as she can muster.

When he sits down next to her, she takes his hand in a comforting gesture, and immediately feels warmth spreading up her arm as he laces his fingers with hers. They sit like that through the ceremony, and apparently it's some turning point for them, because even as the reception begins, they carry on behaving so casually old-couple-like, it only further confuses the town. There's a brush of his hand against the small of her back, a warm smile sent his way; but they don't actually have an opportunity to spend any time alone, and they don't seek one either.

His mother pays annoyingly much attention to him, as if to compensate for the first nineteen years of his life, and as on edge as he is all afternoon, he actually makes an effort to be nice to her on her big day. He grudgingly admits to himself that Luke may have been right – this thing with Liz and TJ looks like it might just stick.

Rory, on her part, keeps herself entertained, trying not to interfere with either Luke and Lorelai's or Jess and Liz's bonding, and at one point she even finds herself sitting at the table next to an ex-con who has disturbingly much to say about how laundry can say a lot about a person.

But, she notes on the side, her mother seems to be having fun with Luke. It's kind of adorable.

At one point, Jess slides into a stool next to her and leans over to say something, but his mother joins them in a second, demanding to be introduced to the charming friend her handsome son brought.

He rolls his eyes, then in a rather cold tone introduces her simply as Rory. She smiles, somewhat nervously, and volunteers information about being Lorelai's daughter. Liz is delighted.

Lorelai and Luke come over to say goodnight and before the scene unfolds in a terribly awkward way, Jess asks Luke to the side for a moment, and as Lorelai stares at her shoes, Rory awkwardly ignores her mother's presence and shoots glances towards the conversing pair. They seem to get along better than ever before, and she thinks that it's really something to be happy about.

They part, the older couple strolling towards the Gilmore house, the younger to Jess's beat up car.

The ride to Yale is quiet; there's an air of exhaustion with a hint of tension, all they have been trying to hide in front of people is starting to come out.

It's probably a good thing they are both too tired to give it much thought.

* * *

As they enter her empty, half-dark dorm, all barriers seem to melt and the tortured look in his eyes is plain on display. The desire to see the old carefree Jess again comes back, even stronger than earlier that day when she watched him change, and she gives into the urge to give him a hug. She can tell he's surprised, but after a moment he responds, circling his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. It's comforting and he's grateful for that, so he opens his mouth, intending to give her some explanation.

"Rory, I..."

"Shhhh," she tells him; he feels her nose brushing against his and then she's placing a soft kiss on his lips. His body tenses instantly, and she traces his cheek with her fingertips, reassuringly, until he gives in and kisses her back. "You knew," she whispers after a moment. "That time at the gas station, you already knew. How is that possible?" she asks in awe, but he doesn't answer, not with words. Their lips meet again, more demanding with every moment and her hands begin to roam around his back. The leather jacket is not really what she wants to be feeling right now, so she reaches to unzip it, then pushes it off his shoulders. With his eyes still closed, he catches her wrists in his hands.

"Rory, what are you doing?"

Unbuttoning his shirt with her shaking fingers and pushing her hips against him is her way of answering.

When he pulls her dress above her shoulders and tosses it away, she attacks him with hungry kisses and unzips his pants.

When his fingers softly brush the small of her back, her hip, then her breast, she leaves a bite mark on his shoulder.

When she finally feels his hand between her legs, she lets out a silent scream. 

She's bolder than she ever imagined she would be and she needs him to share all that she's feeling, but she struggles with reciprocation when her entire being seems to be on fire, aching and tensing up under his touch. 

"Now, Jess," she tells him, because she's pretty sure it's physically impossible to take any more of this.

His eyes become less frantic as he gives her one more look, and she kisses him sweetly as her final confirmation.

It hurts when he's finally inside her, desperate and gentle all at once, but the physical pain it brings is disturbingly welcome, because for the first time in a really long time she knows exactly what she's feeling; in contrast to all the hurt of the past year,  _this_ , this is the pain of belonging. 

Afterwards, as quiet tears roll down her cheeks onto his chest, she listen to his shaky breathing as while strokes her hair, whispering, "I'm sorry," over and over and over again.

* * *

When he wakes up, the clock tells him it's just past 4 a.m. He turns his head and sees her – her hair all over the place, her bare shoulders, the still innocent expression on her face.

He wants to bang his head against the wall, break his nose and give himself two black eyes. He knows that's what he'd do to anyone else, if they did this to her.

He has to leave, even though he hates himself for it. He's still a mess, but he's just about mature enough to acknowledge that if he stays now, it will be too fast, too intense, too destructive. They will just spiral down together and this thing between them will burn away, replaced by a sea of resentment.

It kills him, this vision of impending doom, so as quietly as possible he throws some clothes on, grabs a pen and a piece of paper and sits down on the floor by the bed. He just looks at her, this divine, deceptive picture, until his vision becomes blurred. Angrily, he wipes at his eyes and starts writing.

He's working on the fourth version of his note, scribbling and crossing out viciously, when her voice startles him. "What are you writing?"

He doesn't answer and a guilty look crosses his face. She sits up in the bed, self-consciously holding the sheets tightly around herself, and he can see goose bumps appearing all over her arms. "Can you, uh, pass me that shirt?" she nods towards a chair. He does as he's asked. She puts it on but still refuses to meet his eyes and her voice is shaking slightly as she asks, "Can you at least wait with leaving until it gets light outside?" He still doesn't say a word, and it visibly ticks her off because the look of deflated worry turns into one of stubborn anger. "Or just go now, Jess. Just go!"

She leaps up from the bed, directing her steps towards the door, but he catches her hand mid-way and pulls her down to sit on the floor next to him. "Rory, look at me... You want me to go?" he questions, because he's getting confused now.

"Of course I don't want you to go! But I can see that you intended to. And I know by now that you have to. Your life can't revolve around me, Jess. You can't stay here because you'd start hating me, and I don't want that."

"I was just thinking something along those lines."

"That you'd start hating me?"

"That  _you_ 'd start hating  _me_ ," he smirks a little.

She studies his face for a moment, and then, all of the sudden she inhales deeply, fighting a sob that is rising in her chest. "God, Jess, why is this so complicated? I wish I could do something for you, I really do, I just don't know what. I've never felt so helpless in my life, you know?" she chokes out, as the tears take the better of her. "I think... it might me for the best if we don't see each other for a while. It's selfish, but I'm having a bit of trouble with dealing with this anymore. Though you probably knew that, because you were about to leave, so I'm just saying out loud that I also think it's the best thing to do, and... I'm sorry that I'm not able to help you, Jess. And I don't hold anything against you." The last part is mumbled while she's looking at the floor, and with tears streaming down her face and her hair messy she's the personification of misery.

"Even tonight?" he asks quietly, absentmindedly tracing patterns on her bare knee with his fingers because that's the only way of consolation he can think of right now.

"Especially tonight," she answers, openly crying now.

"Shhhh," he tries and circles his arms around her. He can't have her crying like that, because he'll break down too. "Why the crying, Rory? Your life will be easier. I know."

"I'll... miss you."

"Shhh. Come on. We're not saying goodbye forever. Judging from what we saw in Stars Hollow yesterday, in a few years we'll be invited to Lorelai and Luke's wedding." Rory chuckles through the tears, grateful for his attempt at humor. "Just do one more thing for me," he adds more seriously now.

"Yes?"

"Make things right with Lorelai. I'm sorry things between you got worse because of me. Again."

"No, Jess, really. It's really sweet but you don't need to worry about me and Mom. We'll be okay, I promise."

Then there's a moment of silence before she cups his face in both hands and looks him straight in the eye.

"Jess. I love you."

He has a little trouble catching his breath, but when he does, "I love you, too," comes out, albeit slightly shakily. She flings her arms around him one more time, not wanting him to see as a few more tears roll down from her closed eyelids.

"Now go," she says lightly after a long moment, in control of her voice now. "Maybe when I wake up in the morning, I can persuade myself that this was all a dirty dream."

"You have those?" he asks teasingly.

"Go," she grins, even though her eyes are still wet.

He gets up, brushing her arm in the process, then picks up his jacket from the floor and takes a step towards the door. "I'm not saying goodbye. But better not come looking for me in New York because I can't promise I'll be there," he says, giving her a half-smile.

She nods, her lips twitching too.

"Rory?" he turns around again before closing the door behind himself. "I'll still make something out of myself."

"I know you will."

* * *

Thirteen months pass since she saw him last.

It takes time to let it go, and she learns the hard way that moving on and getting over him are two entirely different things. She's casually dating Logan now, and even though she was wary at first, it turns out to be a pretty decent arrangement. Her heart is not in it, but they do have some pretty good times together, and it  _does_  help to forget, though only for limited periods of time. The whole thing is a lesson in confronting her previous experiences, really: she doesn't have to be that invested in her own love life; it is possible for her mother to disapprove of someone more than of Jess; and sex doesn't normally end in coming together.

She still thinks about Jess too often, when her eyes land on that post card she got from California months ago  _("Lily's getting better. I think I am, too."_ ), or while reading, or lying in bed at night, wondering where he is now, how he's doing. Praying, perhaps pathetically, for him to come back one day, because she could really use having her heart back in her chest.

Days and weeks pass, and one Sunday when she's in her room back in Stars Hollow reading something for school, she overhears Luke talking on the phone in the living room.

"... Yeah, she's doing good... Well, I don't know, Jess."

She stands in the door frame biting her lip until Luke notices her.

"Luke... can you give me the phone when you're done? That is...if he wants to talk."

Luke appears more ill at ease than ever but he nods, and a few minutes later Rory's clutching the phone and taking a deep breath before bringing it to her ear.

"Hey," his voice comes, and apparently her heart is back in an instant because she can feel it come to a standstill.

"Hey," she repeats dumbly. A moment goes by, during which she tries to suppress a smile and ignore the butterflies in her stomach. This might not be the right move, she tells herself, this might get the whole Jess Mess thing going again; but his voice does something to her and her lips quirk up in a small smile on their own accord.

"Is this a bad time?" he breaks the silence.

"No! No, no, no. I wanted to talk to you, remember?"

"And now you're not saying anything."

"It's been a while, Jess," she explains.

"Yeah, I know."

"Well... so what's new with you?"

She can hear him sigh on the other end of the line. " _Actually_ , I've got some news. It's... nothing to be freaked about. It's good news, really. I kind of wanted to deliver it in person but work is really hectic right now and I wasn't sure how you'd react-"

"Are you rambling?" she asks incredulously, a relieved chuckle detectable in her voice.

"I-" he breathes out heavily. "Yeah."

"What's the news?"

"Rory, I'd really rather-"

"Jess, come on, tell me," she demands good-naturedly.

There's a pause before he says, "I... got a permanent address."

"Oh," she says with a hint of disappointment. "Where is it?"

"You're gonna laugh."

"Not unless you've moved to Paradise, no."

"Gee, how intuitive, Miss Gilmore. Not Paradise but you got the state right. Philadelphia, actually."

"No!" she giggles. "What are you doing in Philly?"

"...Working."

"Not vague at all," she quips.

"I try."

"Jess," she says and bites her lip. "You sound good."

"I am good, Rory."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think it's time... that we... uh, see each other? Because I'm kind of going to be in your area on Wednesday."

"How come?"

"Well, I'm trying to get an internship for the summer. I'm actually in Boston tomorrow and in Philly on Wednesday for my interviews."

"Cool. It's your call, Rory."

"Then... yes. Let's meet."

They arrange the time and place, and then there's another silence when the proverbial elephant in the proverbial room is very distinctive, but they are not sure how to approach it. Eventually, Rory goes at it, head on.

"Jess, are we... expecting anything? Because I'd like to, but it's us, and you know how it is with us. So... please don't hate me for not getting my hopes up. I mean, they already are, but, you know... it's not that I don't trust you, it's that things between us always have a way of getting messed up-"

"Rory," he chuckles. "Just be here, we'll see how it goes." There's another pause before he says, amusement masking nervousness, "Just to avoid making a complete fool of myself though – is there anyone I should know about?"

Rory smiles, then the smile turns into a chuckle, the chuckle into full on hysterical laughter.

"Rory?" he says, slightly alarmed.

But she's still laughing and laughing, until there are tears in her eyes and she has to sniffle a little.

"Sorry," she says, embarrassed, and wipes the wetness away from her eyes. Then, just above a whisper, she says, "I'm still waiting for you, you fool." There is silence on the other end of the line and she prompts herself to add, "Just for the record though – there is someone, but it's... it's nothing. It will be taken care of."

"Okay," comes a short reply.

"Okay," she repeats, getting slightly uneasy, because maybe she just exposed herself too much. "I will see you on Wednesday then, right?"

"Yes, you will."

She smiles, about to hang up.

"Rory," comes his voice once again. "I've missed you like hell." And then he's hung up and she's grinning like a mad woman, even though her eyes are wet again.

(She drives to New Haven earlier than she was supposed to, because she has to take care of something).

* * *

He sees her walking out of The Inquirer building, business suit and all, and he feels strangely proud, because clearly, Rory The Small Town Princess has started the transformation into Rory The Conqueror Of The World (who looks  _really_  good in that skirt, by the way). And yet, a second later when she spots him, she smiles so brilliantly that it almost blinds him, because the woman who's walking towards him is somehow still the same girl who smiled at him when he first wondered into her room almost five years ago. It feels like home, he thinks, though admittedly he doesn't have that much of a point of reference, and the notion of not expecting much from this meeting leaves the metaphorical building.

Life's been treating him pretty decently lately, so maybe,  _hopefully_...

"Hi."

"Hi."

Silence.

"Okay, this is weird."

"Slightly, yes," she agrees with a grin.

"So... walk?"

"Definitely. To my car first, I need to change my shoes."

He looks down at her legs and whistles. "How can you  _walk_  in that?"

"Shut up. And I can't."

And so the awkward tension is dissolved and they fall into their bantering rhythm from the simpler times. It's exhilarating and he breathes more deeply than he has in ages; the sun rays seem to envelop them and as they are strolling arm in arm through Fairmount Park, he has to bite his lip not to start whistling Lou Reed's  _Perfect Day_  (and he always wondered what sort of happy pill good old Lou was on when he wrote it). It's disgustingly fucking clichéd, but he kind of likes it.

The catching up goes smoothly; they talk about the recent developments in Luke and Lorelai's relationship, about how odd it is seeing Luke in his pyjamas on Sunday mornings; about Lily and California and Jimmy and Sasha getting married. She tells him about Yale and rants about how hard it is to get an internship, how she didn't get the one in Boston, and if she doesn't get it in Philadelphia she will have to resort to asking a friend to put a word for her to his dad. He tells her a little about working in Truncheon, about the stuff he gets to edit, about his two crazy roommates.

And before he knows it she's requesting to see the place and he agrees, because he's in too good a mood to say 'no'. Besides, a part of him wants her to see it, even just to let her know that he's out of the woods now and this is nothing like what he had back in New York.

The building smells faintly of dust and he's surprised that he hasn't noticed it before but maybe it's because now he's nervous and his senses are keener.

He shows her around the office, happy that Matthew is temporarily out so he only has Chris to introduce her to; she gushes and smiles and then they remember that he still has a pile of her books, so they go upstairs to the apartment. They get a soda each, sharing an amused smile at the memory of an awkward moment in Luke's apartment years ago.

He has his own room now, which is mostly occupied by books, and she takes her time to look through them. He watches her, smirking, wondering whether she knows that she's driving him crazy by just being there. And then he stands closer, leans against a bookshelf right beside her and he's determined to ask one of the big questions that fill his mind when a rattle of steps comes from the stairs and interrupts him.

Matthew bursts in into the apartment.

"Jess!" comes his voice. "It's  _here_!"

"Oh  _shit_."

Rory looks at him with confusion but he just leaves her standing there and goes into the living room. He feels dizzy, and when he sees the box on the floor he just plops down next to it because his knees are going weak.

The next thing he knows, Rory's sitting next to him, staring at the contents of the box with a look even more disbelieving than his own, while Matt and Chris make some joyful exclamations that are not really registering with him.

"You  _wrote_  a  _book_?"

He nods weakly.

She stays silent after that and he's thankful because this is  _a lot_  to take in, he actually didn't expect to have such a strong reaction to seeing it all ready and published; he didn't expect  _her_  to be there at that very moment. 

And it's most certainly unexpected that when he comes out of the kitchen after getting some water and cooling down a bit, she all but throws herself at him and crushes her lips against his.

"Whoa," one of the guys says, and they quietly retreat downstairs, sensing that these two need a moment alone.

"Jess, this is amazing," Rory whispers against his lips.

"Read it first."

"No, I mean... you, writing a book, getting it published, finally doing something you enjoy. You have no idea how happy for you I am. And proud.  _Really_  proud."

"Well, you have the right to, because I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. Nor would the book."

She gives him a tender smile. "Corny."

"Honest," he shrugs.

"So what does that mean... for us? Are we done running?"

"I am if you are."

"Are you kidding?" she asks teasingly, beaming. "I've dreamed of being with a writer since I was six. I'm never letting you go again."

"Huh," he says, kissing her again and smiling against her lips. "Rory?"

"Hmm?"

"You know that I love you, right?"

"I know. I love you too."

Like every other time, these words begin a new era.

Only he's happy this time round.

And he're pretty sure she is, too.


End file.
